Colors of Love

I didn’t understand

what you meant

when you said, I love you.

Three words,

a heavy weight

pressed against my heart.

I studied every part of you,

searching for reasons

to justify my doubts.

I saw myself in your eyes,

floating in a pool of tears

held back far too long.

I felt the longing—

to tear down walls

that guard my fragile heart.

Your lips, open

wide enough to whisper,

but quick to close,

choosing silence

over words.

Your hands,

locked in mine—

warm, steady,

unwilling to let go.

My head rests

upon your chest,

my ear tuned

to your heartbeat:

a knock at the door of my heart,

begging to be let in.

Your feet remain unmoved,

yet grounded,

wishing to follow

my every step.

I almost believed you

when you said, I love you.

But I know pain

more than love.

Why do I always run

when my heart breaks?

When I hurt you,

and you hurt me,

does that mean

our love has faded?

Perhaps love, like hue,

takes different shades—

today red: passionate,

intimate, alive.

Tomorrow blue: quiet,

solemn, subtle.

I wish for lenses

to show me

your true colors.

And when my eyes

go blind,

failing to see your love,

write it down in Braille.

For actions speak louder than words,

yet words alone

speak the language of the heart.

So the next time you say, I love you,

let me see

all the colors of your love.

And I promise,

I will open my heart

to receive it all—

the joy, the sadness,

the pain, the laughter.

I will live each day

with conviction,

knowing what I longed for

was beside me

all along.